Democracy
by Wild Knightblazer
Summary: The Wild Knight examines not only his life, but those near to him as well, as he fights to overturn the warrant Countess Crey has issued for his arrest. Rating for violence and language.


**Democracy**  
_a short story written by Wild Knightblazer_

Aside from the concept of my two heroes, I do not own all City of Heroes material that is originally the intellectual property of NCSoft and Cryptic Studios. Oh, Teresa/Dragon Huntress isn't mine either.

This story is inspired by A) the need to write an idea about one of the high-level arcs, B) the need to write something for the CoH section that wasn't an origin story for my characters, and C) the Countess Crey story arc leaving me wanting more.

I'm sure any high-level hero or heroine remembers the story of "The Evil Countess Crey." I'm sure they also remember being told at one point by Janet Kellum that one of their missions had gone the wrong way, and that the result was that Countess Crey had undermined the legal system and issued a warrant for your arrest. Tell me, honestly – did you ever feel any sort of urgency during the next few missions when you worked to uncover the debilitating conspiracy that would not only destroy Countess Crey's reputation, but also overturn your warrant?

I didn't think so.

But what if you took it seriously? What if your hero realized the dangers and consequences of being singled out and targeted by the head of one of the largest mega-corporations in the world?

It's not just a game anymore, is it?

* * *

_I never knew secret identities were so useful._

Curled up in a small cardboard box, his only shelter from the cold night aside from his jacket, Lee softly blew his hair out of his eyes. It felt so strange to let his hair down instead of tying it up in a ponytail as he usually did, but he could not afford any slips.

_To think that once I scoffed at the idea of the only difference between Superman and Clark Kent being a pair of glasses. But it worked so well. _He clenched his hands into fists, his fingers nearly frozen from the cold weather. _Would that it was just as effective for me._

He thought idly of what his apartment must look like. No doubt it had been torn apart, the door beaten in, every dresser and table upturned and every corner searched. He only hoped they wouldn't touch his book collection. It was modest and consisted mostly of young adult fiction, but he still enjoyed it and it would be hell to try and replace them.

_As if that's the big problem here._

_As if the things I really should be worrying about aren't the well-beings of Ruth and Teresa…_

Lee bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably in the cardboard box. He knew the influence of the Countess spread farther and deeper than probably anyone could guess. It would honestly surprise him if she didn't know about his exploits with his two closest friends, aliases Sharpye and Dragon Huntress.

_God, please don't let them be harmed…_

He idly wondered how he found himself in this situation. But to think that was folly – he knew.

He knew damn well.

"_Janet?"_

_He still heard no words. Only Janet's panicked breathing. "Janet, what's wrong? Did you hear me? I said I found an interesting email, but no sign of the Countess."_

"_Wild Knight?" Janet sounded afraid – something Lee had never imagined would happen. "Wild Knight, we have a serious problem."_

"_What? What is it?" A chill ran down his back, and he clenched his cell phone tighter instinctively._

"_The Countess has so much more power than we realized, Wild Knight," Janet Kellum said, her very voice shivering. "Even presented with the evidence, the media will not report on her crimes. They're not going to accuse her of being guilty of murder. And on top of that, I couldn't get a single judge to sign a warrant for her arrest."_

_Lee blinked, the feedback hum of his cell phone suddenly beginning to grind his nerves. "Then…she's still at large?"_

"_Worse than that." Lee gulped – how could it get worse than that?_

_He found out instantly._

"_One of the judges I talked to was right in her pocket. And when I mentioned your name…He just raised his eyebrows and presented me with a slip of paper." Janet was having trouble breathing now. "Wild Knight, a warrant has been issued for _your_ arrest. The Countess has you on breaking and entering, assault, and theft of Crey technology."_

_Lee's voice caught in his throat. The feedback hum seemed to rise in a crescendo._

"_Wild Knight, if we can't prove that you were conducting a legitimate investigation, you're going to spend the next fifty years in the Zig. And lord knows what would happen if you resisted arrest."_

_He tried to say something, but it came out as a stifling choke. His mind tried to think about it, but it found itself frozen, as if the blue screen of death had struck._

"_Listen, we've got to do something to clear your name. You said you found an interesting email? What did it say?"_

_Lee swallowed, took several deep breaths, and said (proud of himself for stabilizing his voice), "It was about what looked like an ex-Crey employee, named Howard Quigley. It sounded like he was a disgruntled employee, and it said he might be able to disrupt the launch of CreyComp."_

"_Their new OS? Okay." Over the phone, it sounded as though Janet was trying to calm herself as well. "Okay. That's something to go on. I'll look up anything I can on this guy. Howard Quigley? With a Q and a G?"_

"_And an –ey on the end."_

"_Okay. If we can find him, we may be able to find something else incriminating about Crey, something even the Countess can't just deflect. In the meantime…" Self-loathing suddenly infected Janet's voice. "Stay out of your apartment. Don't wear your normal costume, don't talk to anyone you know, not even over the phone – stick to the back alleys. You're a wanted man now, Wild Knight." Her voice cracked. "I-I'll call you again. Stay out of trouble."_

_Lee waited for the bombshell to strike him. It didn't. His mind felt nothing at all. "Thank you. I'll do that." He pressed END on the phone and stared at the numbers indicating the call's length, which blinked a few times before the screen returned to its normal display._

_And he felt nothing._

Nothing at all.

The cold wasn't helping.

And neither was the feeling of the small book inside his jacket pocket.

Struck by a sudden thought, Lee pulled out the small diary and flipped through it, the scenes playing out in his mind's eye: the young woman, Julianne Thompson, her idealistic dreams overtaking her life, spurring her through high school and college and graduate school, the last entry detailing a trip to see the hero Night Fox.

Though the diary ended there, Lee knew the rest of the story. At some point, young, sweet Julianne, still in pursuit of her idealisms despite a brief stint in prison, murdered Clarissa van Dorn, assumed her identity, and married Count Crey, quickly rising to the top and becoming the well-known public figure, philanthropist extraordinaire - Countess Crey.

_How could someone so sweet and so idealistic turn out to be so cruel and wretched?_

Lee bit his lip again, this time drawing blood. _Trumped-up charges. The Revenant Hero Project…The crimes just keep piling up._

He licked his lips, smearing away the prick of blood as he examined the lone medal he had managed to grab in his haste to leave – the one he received for campaigning against Crey under Manticore's guidance. _Even the Freedom Phalanx knows I'm not of a criminal mind. I helped all of them. I helped save the city numerous times._

_How could all that be thrown out of the window because of sweet Julianne Thompson?_

It wasn't fair.

_I traveled here in the first place to do justice,_ he thought bitterly, closing the book and stuffing it and the medal back in his pocket. _I left everything I knew, all in pursuit of this vague, silly thing called justice._

_And look where it got me._

_Look where it got Julianne Thompson, for that matter._

Lee stretched out and lay down, his left hand gently resting upon the hilt of his blade. _I swear…I will prove it to them. To all of them. Not just the citizens of this city, not just the Freedom Phalanx, or the former Julianne Thompson. To my friends, as well. To Ruth, and to Teresa._

_And even…to her. Even though she may very well hate my guts for leaving her._

_But I will prove my worth to them all._

_-  
_

Lee looked up at the sign hanging above the door, frowning as he observed the vandalism that had degraded it. Gaffnet Consulting. Seemed innocent enough.

But if there was one thing he had learned, it was that Crey pulled no punches.

He bit his lip again, drew his sword, and kicked the door open with a _BANG_. Expecting the worst, he rushed inside, his scarf trailing out behind him.

_I feel so much less heroic without my armor._

He had the weirdest thoughts sometimes to distract himself. _Then again, it's a necessary evil. People recognize my armor – they're not going to be expecting the Wild Knight to go kicking Crey in the balls in casual._

"Damn! Request backup! It's Wild Knight!"

…_Huh. So much for that._

"Not a chance," Lee snarled, spinning his sword with a flourish and lunging at the Crey guard that stood before him. The guard ripped the submachine gun from the holster on his leg and aimed at Lee – but before he could flinch, Lee had kicked the firearm out of his hands and dealt a harsh blow to the side of his head with the flat of his blade. Acting quickly, Lee delivered a harsh uppercut to the man as he fell – the guard was propelled into the air, unconscious before he hit the floor. He soon faded away, the mediport-beacon having kicked in.

Lee stood there panting for a second before he stood up straight again and surged forward through the office. After what seemed like hours of slashes, cuts in the uniforms of Crey guards, and one or two smashed desktop computers, Lee finally found a solitary door at the end of one hallway, with a plaque fixed upon it and _Howard Quigley, Consultant_ written in embossed gold text.

He raised his fist to knock, but he hesitated for a moment, a strange intuition telling him something was up.

_Crey's infiltrated the entire office. Am I honestly going to believe they haven't reached him yet?_

Gritting his teeth, he cocked his arm and slammed his elbow against the wooden door – it splintered, and with a quick slash and two kicks, he widened the break enough to burst through it, his sword at the ready.

_Thank god my intuition hasn't failed me yet._

In the corner of the office, Howard Quigley, a graying middle-aged man, cowered under the threatening glare of an imposing gray-armored Crey Power Tank.

"Hey." The Tank's glare swung around to make eye contact with Lee. "I'm the Wild Knight. I thought you were supposed to be looking for _me_?"

The Tank had no response – except to raise its gauntlet and fire a bolt of energy. Smiling grimly, Lee jumped to the side and let the bolt fly past him, leaving a crater in the far wall – Lee leaped forward, concentrating and focusing his strength and constitution, dulling all pain. He smiled again as he quickly shifted his sword to block the overhead-blow from the Power Tank.

It grunted in surprise and tried to force its way through, but Lee twisted around, letting it stumble over its own momentum, and then twirled around to deliver a fanciful uppercut with his sword, sending the Power Tank up into the air, though not as far as the earlier Crey guard. It landed on its feet and shot a second blue bolt of energy without hesitation – Lee took the hit, flinching only slightly, and hopped quickly into the air before he slammed his sword down, delivering an incredibly hard slash to the Power Tank.

Though his blade cleaved through the armor, the Power Tank still lived – though he was floored by the assault. Acting quickly, Lee delivered a harsh slash to the Tank's side – and then another, down its thigh. And yet one more, across the abdomen.

Again and again, he struck, his eyes going blurry from tears, his hands slipping and sliding and struggling to keep a tight grip on his blade, his teeth clenched so hard he might have bitten his own tongue off, his muscles aching from the strain of so much _rage_…

When he finally stepped back, exhausted, his shirt soaked with sweat, the Power Tank was quite unconscious, its armor cut into pieces around it.

As the Power Tank faded away, Lee's knees suddenly quivered and buckled, and he sank to his knees, his entire body trembling.

…_What…in the hell…drove me to such brutality?_

He shook his head, stood up, and sheathed his sword, rubbing his temples wearily as he turned to the corner where the middle-aged man still cowered. "I'm sorry to scare you. Howard Quigley, I presume?"

"Yes…Yes, that's right," Quigley said, standing up on shivering knees and offering a shaky hand. "W-what can I do for you?"

Lee shook his hand, biting his lip as he realized how very frightened Quigley was of him.

_As if I needed any more stains to my reputation._

_- _

"_Secret, nefarious purpose?"_

"Those were his words." Lee's lips tightened, wondering how in the world he had reception inside one of the tunnels that formed a maze of canals in Founders' Falls. He couldn't figure out anywhere else to go – he sure as hell didn't want to go back to that cardboard box.

"_Well, I certainly wouldn't put it past Crey. Not after what they've done to you…"_ Lee didn't respond, but he did hear Janet mutter something unintelligible – probably an oath of some kind. _"I'm sorry. You're probably still a little sensitive about that…"_

"A little, but it's alright." Lee took a deep breath and continued. "He also said the OS code was shared among three facilities. What should we do about that?"

"_Huh…If there really is something sinister behind the OS, then the code should reveal that. Remember, computers are inhuman – they only ever do what someone tells them to do. So no matter how nefarious, it's got to be in there."_

"…I can't read code, though."

"_I didn't think you did. Don't worry. Just focus on getting the pieces anyway. I'll look up software analysts who will be able to read it and tell us what it does."_

"…Okay. That works. I'll do that." He took a deep breath. "Have you, um…made any progress about…"

"…_No. I'm sorry. You're still among the top ten most wanted." _At least she sounded apologetic. _"Look on the bright side, though – you're so incredible that even when you do bad, you do bad the best."_

Lee raised an eyebrow. "…I'm sorry, but I don't find that very funny, Janet."

"_Yes, I figured…I'm sorry. I'll do my best, okay? You just find that code."_

"Okay." He lowered the phone and hovered his thumb over END – but before he pressed down, a thought occurred to him, and he quickly returned the phone to his ear. "Wait, Janet? Can I ask something else of you?"

"_Oh, um. Sure. What is it?"_

"Can you…" Lee swallowed; what did they think of him now? "Can you get in touch with the heroines Sharpye and Dragon Huntress? Tell them…I'm sorry?"

That feedback hum again.

"…_Sure. No problem, Wild Knight."_

"Thank you." He pressed END and let his arm fall limp. One of the nearby torches caught a glint of light on his jacket, and he looked down at his lapel. Affixed there was a small, round, light-blue badge.

The _Cold Warrior_ badge. It was so named for, and awarded for defeating, the thousands of strange snow monsters that had attacked the city last winter – but that wasn't why Lee wore it. He wore it because he was liked it best solo – he had lost count of how many invitations to team up he had declined. He just didn't feel he worked well as part of a team. As a result, he had almost no friends – and he had gained a bit of a reputation as a cold-skinned, isolated warrior.

The name of the badge had been a perfect fit.

And yet, he _had_ made friends – in the largest city in the United States, it was impossible not to. He still remembered that day, early on in his career, under Atlas's statue, where he was returning to Susan Davies after defeating a Hellion chief and his gang. He stopped to rest on the ledge for a moment, when a short woman wearing all black and sporting a _tail_ walked by and had said something to the effect of, "Well, hello there, Solid Snake."

He had raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding her – he _had_ played the Metal Gear games, many years ago, but he didn't know what the supersoldier had to do with him. Seeing his look of confusion, she had smiled mischievously and gestured at his headband, which, when combined with his baggy gray shirt, looked like he had taken after Snake. He had raised an eyebrow and pointed out that his headband was white, and Solid Snake had been anti-bright colors.

That was how he met Teresa – also known as the Dragon Huntress. And despite her cheek, she was a more-experienced vigilante than he was – she had been the one to introduce him to many new things about the City of Heroes, and she had protected him and pulled his fat out of the fire more than once.

And then, during a quick sojourn into Faultline just for the hell of it, they had discovered a young, red-haired girl firing arrows rapidly into an approaching mob of zombies. He had cried out a warning, seeing that she was backing towards a cliff, but she had realized it too late and toppled over the edge. Acting quickly, Teresa had teleported into the chasm and raised her arms, manipulating the gravity around the poor girl and stopping her descent. He had taken the opportunity to leap forward and deal with the mob of Vahzilok zombies. Once they had returned the girl to solid ground, she had thanked them profusely, and though they insisted that they needed no reward, she insisted herself on taking them out to dinner that night.

From that point on, he and Teresa and Ruth had become inseparable. They didn't just fight crime together; many times, one of them would call up the other two and they would all meet someplace and just hang out, like a bunch of college kids – minus the binge drinking (not that they never drank), wild parties (though they _had_ made the "wild night/Wild Knight" pun _way_ too many times), and mailbox baseball. They frequently ate at diners, almost never the same one twice, or went to catch the latest stupid comedy down at the movie theater, or after a particularly prolific series of missions – resulting in lots of reward money – they would buy tickets for a live theatre show, which was Lee's not-so-secret-anymore passion.

A thought suddenly occurred to him – he slipped his hand inside his pocket and fumbled around for a moment before he pulled out an old ticket stub – front row seats for Paragon Theater's production of Michael Frayn's play _Democracy_.

It hadn't made much fanfare on Broadway, but the production they had seen was fantastic – Lee had found that he was really drawn into the plot, about the questions asked about who Willy Brandt and his secretary – and betrayer – Gunter Guillaume were.

Somehow, it seemed to fit.

-

He tried to work out how, even as he battled with Crey guards throughout their hidden laboratories, even as he burned OS coding onto a few DVDs.

_Guillaume had been a spy for East Germany_, he thought, drumming his fingers on the desk as he watched the progress bar slowly climb. _He worked his way up there, he gained the trust of the people that mattered, and brought down the whole house of cards at the end…and yet the actor who played him – dammit, I can't remember his name – managed to portray him as sympathetic, no more at fault than the man he was betraying._

He paused, feeling the diary in his pocket poke against his torso. _That's it. Julianne Thompson was once a sweet, lovely, idealistic girl. She was a good person. And she made a wrong turn…She believed what she was doing was best, regardless, and through talking to the right people, she collapsed the house of cards that was her life. And as a result of that, she is now Countess Crey, the head of a company worse than Microsoft._

He smiled grimly. _At least Bill Gates doesn't fabricate charges and monopolize through hostile takeovers. Frankly, given their reputations, I'd _much_ rather use Windows than CreyComp._

With a chime, the progress bar hit 100, and the DVD drive popped out. Lee quickly took out theDVD and popped it into a jewel case, stuffing it in one of his jacket pockets. _That's all three._

_Now we need to see how these can help bring down Julianne Thompson for making that one wrong turn._

His lips tightened-

-and then the computer exploded.

"_Gaaahhh!!"_ The force threw Lee onto his back, and he slid for a few meters. In an instant, he was back on his feet, staring at the pile of slag and rubble that had once been the computer on the desk.

…_What the hell was _that?!

His intuition prickled.

And then he drew his sword, whirled around, and slashed.

The second arrow tumbled out of the air.

And Manticore gave a sharp whistle, even as he nocked another arrow into his complicated, high-tech bow. "Sweet Jesus, that was good! Almost superhuman! You sure you got this strong only through intense training? No magical artifacts or anything?"

…_**Shit**._

"Pretty sure," Lee said, his sword slipping in his hand due to the beads of perspiration already forming. _What does Manticore want with me?!_

"Well…really, that's a shame," Manticore said. "That's some incredible potential. I could have easily seen you rising to become one of the city's stars." He gave that sharp, smartass grin he was well-known for. "And really, I thought you were incredible enough when you and your friends arrested Hopkins for me. What else have you done since then? You've fought a couple of cross-dimensional battles too, right? Discovered a couple of new dimensions through Portal Corp., subverted more than one Malta conspiracy…You've really been working, Wild Knight. I'm proud of you, I really am."

Lee could feel his shirt getting soaked with sweat again – his heavy breathing was not helping matters. "Then why did you just shoot at me?"

The smartass grin disappeared. "I'm sorry, kid. Really. But orders from the top – States himself signed it. And I'm still on probation for killing a villain, so I can't afford to slip anymore."

Time froze for Lee.

_Statesman himself…?!?_

And then, in a burst of light, Manticore was suddenly behind him.

"I'm sorry."

And then, a _harsh_ blow to Lee's head. The Wild Knight cried out as Manticore struck him over the head with his bow, flooring him instantly. He flipped back onto his feet as quickly as he could, but he could not raise his sword in time to block the sudden flurry of Manticore's swings.

If he had been wearing his armor, he _might_ have been able to take the blows. But with nothing but his leather jacket, Lee felt the full force of every one of Manticore's punches. And they _hurt_. After driving him back a few meters with a particularly harsh punch – Lee was still standing, though he had no idea how – Manticore suddenly nocked another arrow and loosed it instantly. It struck the floor at Lee's feet, and for a moment he wondered-

_Crap!_

And then the arrowhead exploded in a flash of light – Lee shouted, photons flashing in his eyes, and then Manticore was upon him again, landing punches and kicks that had probably been taught to the playboy through a billion-dollar regiment. Lee had thought he was strong – but Manticore was a _titan_ compared to him!

_I can't take much more of this…!_

He swung his sword feebly in an attempt to at least do _something_, but no – Manticore _caught_ the blade, twisted it around, and smashed his knee into Lee's stomach, sending the slightly younger swordsman to the floor.

Lee lay on his back, gasping for breath and convulsing, until Manticore planted a foot on his stomach, nocked another arrow, and pointed it straight at his face.

_Oh my god._

"…Well, no…That's not gonna work," Manticore muttered, suddenly shifting the target to Lee's sword-arm. "If I shot you in the head, that would kill you – a shot to a limb would probably end up 'porting you to the infirmary of the Zig, as programmed."

Lee gritted his teeth, feeling the diary of Julianne Thompson poke into his torso again. "Is there anything I can say that will change your mind?"

Manticore shook his head sadly. "Nope. I'm sorry, kid, but my mind was made up the instant Statesman gave the order."

Lee watched the bowstring grow less taut-

-and then the string snapped.

Manticore blinked. "Wait, what?"

And then Lee saw his gaze shift to someone out of sight. He couldn't turn his head – Manticore still had him pinned, and whoever it was was "above" him, so to speak – he had no idea who had just saved his life from the Freedom Phalanx.

"…I see," Manticore said, another trademark smirk growing on his face. "You pinched the forces in the air tightly enough to break my bowstring? That's a pretty creative manipulation of the forces of gravity. I'm impressed."

"Thank you. I've trained to do nifty little things like that."

Lee's eyes widened – he recognized the voice. Suddenly it became clear.

"And you want to keep your arm steady, hon," Manticore continued. "You'll never fire a good shot if you're wavering like that. You need to be sure of yourself, confident."

"Well, I gotta admit, I'm a little hesitant about shooting a member of the Freedom Phalanx. We _are_ supposed to be on the same side."

"Well, don't jump off the handle like that next time. At least wait to see what I was going to do," Manticore said, finally removing his foot from Lee's stomach. Lee took the opportunity to roll over, away from the archer, and look up at the two women standing in the doorway to the lab.

The shorter one, garbed in a revealing black dress and a sparkling green cape and hovering a foot off the ground, shot him a grin.

"You were about to loose an arrow into his arm, possibly incapacitating him, and _definitely_ 'porting him to the Zig," said the taller one, her fingers wrapped tightly around her oaken bow and arrow, and her pearly-white teeth clenched angrily. "What else _could_ we do?"

"You could have waited a second longer, when you would have noticed that I was, in fact, _un_nocking my arrow," Manticore said, strapping his currently-useless bow upon his back. "I was never going to seriously harm him in the first place."

Lee blinked owlishly from the ground. "…Are you kidding? You kicked the shit out of me."

"I had to maintain _some_ semblance that I was doing my job, for the combat log's sake," Manticore shrugged. "Besides, you'd be lying if you said you hadn't recovered by now."

Lee grumbled and got to his feet, standing with his back straight and his arms flexed, all his bruises gone – it was as if Manticore had never landed a blow on him. _Thank god for my regenerative powers. _"You're very perceptive."

Manticore smirked again. "The filed report will say that reinforcements showed up and that, while I was distracted, Wild Knight made his escape. That's not entirely untruthful."

Lee nodded, his lips tight, and looked over at the two women. Teresa was smiling warmly at him again, and Ruth had lowered her bow and gave him the thumbs up.

"Why are you doing this, Manticore?" Lee asked, his forehead creasing.

"I told you when we first met, didn't I?" Manticore said, crossing his arms. "I don't care what anyone else says, Countess Crey is a crazy little bitch and she needs to be booted from her high horse, preferably brought down into the Zig."

He felt the diary within his pocket.

"The media will probably write this little venture off as another dispute between me and States anyway," Manticore continued, shrugging. "God knows we have enough of those. To be honest, though, I think Statesman knows the truth, too."

Ruth frowned. "Then why did he sign the order?"

"Probably to save face. The Countess asked us directly to take care of you, Wild Knight – it wouldn't look good for the Phalanx to directly go against the most prolific company in the city." Manticore looked significantly at Lee. "But y'know what? We don't buy her lies for a second. And there's gotta be something up, if you're on the case. So you keep going. You find out what's up with this crap. And once you have that concrete proof, we'll endorse it officially – if that doesn't overturn your warrant, nothing will."

Manticore gestured with his hand. "Now get outta here, kid. You make sure you keep doing the right thing."

-

_Thank you, God._

"C'mon. You're public enemy number seven and you were worried about _us_?" Ruth placed her gloved hands on her hips, staring incredulously at Lee. "What kinda screwy logic is that?"

_I don't even know if you exist, and whatever the case, I'm not even religious…_

"It's the way he is," Teresa said softly, swinging her legs over the ledge. "Lee's just utterly selfless, in every sense of the word."

"As in, I don't have my own sense of self?"

"Thaaaaaaat's debatable." Teresa flashed a smart grin in his direction.

…_but thank you for answering my prayers anyway._

"You didn't seriously think we'd leave you alone?" Ruth asked. She scuffed the stones with her sandal and gave Lee a light whap over the head. "C'mon, it takes more than the head of a big evil mega-conglomerate to turn us against you. Seriously, I thought you had more faith in us than that."

Lee sighed and dropped to his knees, leaning his head against the side of the building. "Ruth, it's not…" _Argh, what can I say? _"It's not that I doubted your friendship…I just didn't want you guys getting mixed up in this. This is my mess."

"And who says it's all about you? Huh?" Ruth stuck her tongue out at Lee playfully before sitting down next to Teresa on the edge of the roof. "Quite frankly I don't give a damn if it's your mess or not – you're my friend, I'm gonna help you get outta this sticky situation any way that I can." She looked at Teresa slyly and softly nudged her in the side. "I'm sure Teresa feels the same way. If not moreso."

"_Dammit_, Ruth, I told you not to bring that up," Teresa grumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

Lee smirked slightly, knowing all too well what they were talking about. Tactfully, he decided not to say anything about it – instead, he dragged himself over to the ledge and sat between the two of them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders. "Thanks, you two. I really appreciate it."

Ruth squirmed slightly under his arm, but she didn't really seem to mind otherwise; Teresa, on the other hand, was definitely leaning into him.

_Thank you, whoever it was, who sent me two of the greatest friends I could possibly have…Two friends who are willing to give up everything for me._

He felt a sudden surge of confidence as he and the two women sat there, watching the moon travel across the sky.

_As long as I have them…_

Lee cracked a small smile. _If they can save me…maybe we can be true heroes, and save someone else._

* * *

٭facepalm٭ God, I had the toughest time figuring out an ending for this before I decided to end it here. 

Now, the odd thing is, I never actually saw _Democracy_ – I'm almost certain I screwed something up about the details of the play, because, well, that's what I get for writing about something I haven't seen. I did as much as research as I could, but if I messed anything up, tell me, please.

But why _Democracy_, especially if I haven't seen it? Well…er…to be honest, I'm an incredible theater geek, and I shamelessly installed that love into Lee's character as well, so I wanted to link the situation to a work of theater somehow. It's also a cheap way to get a title for the actual story. I'm terrible, aren't I? Other plays I tried were _Proof_ (which I haven't seen either, and it just didn't work at all) and _Doubt: A Parable_ (which…I haven't seen…but I have read it, so I have more of an idea than the other two).

…I…think that's all I wanted to say. Comments, problems, traumas, concerns, etc., etc., and so forth…you know the drill, leave a review.


End file.
